


Sun's Shadow

by Lumieres



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, High Sci Fi, M/M, Pining, Red Rising Inspired, Space Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-09 06:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10405800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumieres/pseuds/Lumieres
Summary: “Do you know what the Galra call you?” Shiro asks. Keith shakes his head. “They call you the Hurricane .”Keith scoffs and folds his arms. “Am I?”“You destroy everything you touch."(Or: The story of a decade long war in the Solar System between rebels and the ruling sovereign.)





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re not invincible, Keith!” Pidge’s voice is mere static against the hum of his spacecraft. He jerks the yoke upwards, pulling as the lights of thousands of stars spiral past him. In space, he’s the king without a crown. He’s his ship, he’s the _red lion_ itself.

He avoids all the asteroids, travelling close to the speed of sound, a large grin peeling across his face as his heart hammers in his chest.

He knows the asteroid belt like the back of his hand.

After all, he had grown up here after his parents and other members of the Voltron Alliance fled from Mars to hide. They have a base on Phobos, hidden in the shadow of the moon, but most of their fleet is hidden in the dark pockets of space.

Zarkon’s goons chase him, barely avoiding the rocks — with a couple spiralling into them. At high speeds like this, they have no chance in an area that they’re unfamiliar with. Close combat and slow reflexes make their movements cumbersome. Keith pushes the buttons on his console and send a couple warning shots at them, enough for the pilot behind him to spiral away, hitting an asteroid by his side.

“God, you’re all shit at this,” Keith says, with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Out here in space, he feels alive. There was once a time when he was a child of Mars, living in the mines, he would sneak up to the surface to see the sky. He saw the sky coated in a purple hue and he drank the colour in greedily, watching as it faded to orange then to the blackness of the mines he worked in. He remembered dreaming about living in the skies, living like the Galra, travelling through the Solar System without any repercussions.

He never thought he would have the chance to pilot a _spacecraft_. But now he’s here, darting between fleets, wreaking havoc.

He’s here and he’s enjoying the freedom it brings. Gravity and earth is always far too stifling for an agitated soul like his.

“Green Lion are you in position?” Keith calls through the comms. He gets a crackled yes as a response. “Capture and board the ship now.”

He yelps, shooting a couple of lasers at a couple that come at the wrong angle, pretending to panic. It’s a game he plays well. Inexperience and being barely twenty-two can always make his opponents doubt him.

But he’s the captain of the fleet. He’s the _Hurricane_ of Mars. He laughs at that name as the Green Lion circles the ship, his _pirates_ boarding. The Galra gave it to him years before, when he had locked them in a maneuver that caused all their ships to fall. He’s never been able to replicate it, but the notoriety is always fun.   

“Keith, to your left,” Pidge barks. Keith’s learnt to stop looking now, completely trusting in Pidge’s words. He spins his craft to his left and aims to blasts at them, sending one of the crafts spiralling into the other. He grinds his teeth and angles his body as he darts through, deeper into the asteroid belt. Earth peeks through, a pale blue dot in among the abyss of black. The sun is to his back and it’s during these few moments that he feels most alive: speeding through space, without a care in the world.

All he has to do is stay alive.

But staying alive is always easy when it’s in his home territory.

His lips peel back into an animalistic grin and he stops his craft suddenly.

“Keith…” Pidge says, her voice taking a warning tone. “It’s too dangerous, what are you trying to do!?”

They think they’re going to destroy him. They close in with the confidence of a predator stalking its prey. A low, animalistic laugh escapes his mouth and he tilts his head when he catches the pilot on the other side. He flips them off, taking his hands off the yoke for just one minute. It causes the small spacecraft to wobble a bit in space, but he doesn’t care.

He moves with the arrogance of a pilot that thinks he’s never going to lose.

He _knows_ he’s never going to lose.

With a small smirk, he tilts his craft down and exits the belt, watching fire explode behind him. As soon as he finds a quiet area, he cranks the gears way down low and flicks up a couple of switches, initiating autopilot.

Pidge’s voice comes to light in his ears at a hundred miles an hour. He pulls up her image onto the front of his screen, eyes scanning the RADAR for any other Galra chasing him.

“So,” Keith gives her a lopsided grin, interrupting whatever she was saying. “No more Galra chasing the Castle of Lions?”

As she thinks, the electrical connections beneath her skin glows blue and behind her round glasses, her eyes are a glassy shade of green. If he hadn’t known her for the last couple of years, he would have dismissed her as crazy. But ever since joining the Voltron Alliance, their own rebellion group, meeting people like this had become pretty much normal to him.

“No,” she says with a sigh, relief flooding through her.

Five years ago, she had been captured by the Galra. Saturn’s moon, Titan, had been ransacked for their best programmers, and Pidge was one of them. Like most of the programmers, Pidge came back with electricity running through her veins, never fully being able to disconnect herself from the hardware of the system.

Keith once asked her what it felt like and Pidge described it as, “Think of _thirty-thousand_ people talking to you at the same time.”

“What’s the damage to your ship?” Keith asks. He isn’t as great of a mechanic as Hunk, but he knows enough to be able to fix small fighter-class space crafts.

“Thrusters are at thirty-three percent,” Pidge starts, her eyes now completely white as they roll back into her head. He tries his best to supress a shudder. “I’ve sent Hunk to have a look at it and, well, he’s seeing to it. Hunk! — That’s not — please don’t touch that — oh god I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Pidge,” Keith leans forward in his chair. He’s about to push the throttle on his craft, about to travel back to Voltron to check on Pidge. They know each other too well: two outsiders on board a ship that’s always ready to fight. Would he ever get tired of fighting? Once there’s nothing to fight for, probably.

The Castle of Lions isn’t their home. The Castle of Lions is just a ship they’re occupying as they try to get their homes. Not everyone on board is displaced like them. A few are, but not many.

Most come from the outer planets, where Zarkon’s influence grows steadily. They want to snuff out the man’s power as quickly as possible and the only way to do it, they believe, is to take out his base on Luna.

No one knows the cost of war like Keith does.

No one knows that they’re fighting for more than just freedom.

He’s fighting to live for more than this.

Pidge groans, wrapping thin arms around her stomach. “I hate being this connecting to the ship.”

“You uploaded yourself to it,” Keith reminds her.

“I know, I know. It’s the only way to be able to keep track of all our pilots,” she says. She holds up a veiny hand  that glows against the darkness of space behind her. She stares at them, slightly disgusted. They’re all products of what the Galra have done to them, some more visible than others.

His scars aren’t as evident as Pidge’s and people seem to forget that. But he carries the ghost of his parents every day as well as a stolen childhood.

“Have you gotten into contact with Allura?” Keith asks.

“Hey, she’s a _Princess,”_ Pidge reminds him, though her voice takes a curl of amusement.

Keith scoffs. “I never thought people from Neptune could be Princesses. I thought Princesses were dainty and shit. Allura ain’t.”

“She’s not from _Neptune,_ Keith,” Pidge groans. “She’s from Proteus.”

“Proteus, _Neptune_ ,” Keith shakes his head, his hair falling across his eyes. “They’re the same thing for a person from Mars.”

“You all are uncultured,” Pidge mutters.

“It’s true,” Keith grins, despite himself. He’s let him become far too comfortable around Pidge. He’s wondering who else could do that. He knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to admit it right now. “The stereotypes are true.”

“Yeah, she knows that we need to evacuate that area. We’re thinking of doing a stopover at Io. They usually treat us with neutrality.”

“Last time we went to Io we were way too close to Ganymede. They’re practically Galra worshipers,” Keith mutters. The last time, they lost half a ship, with the Blue Lion practically going down and a bunch of other crew members. They never heard from them again.

Weeks later, they received signals from the Blue Lion in the Keiper Belt. They sent a couple of teams to rescue her and realised it was a trap far too late.

It’s the reason why Keith pilots his Red Lion solo. He couldn’t dare to lose a crew like that. Plus, it’s the smallest of the external battle fleet, and originally, Allura said it requires four Proteans to run it. Keith surpassed her expectations when only one _Martian_ could run it.

He’s had the Red Lion to himself since.

“I got Coran to do the calculations,” Pidge murmurs. “He says that Ganymede should be on the other side of the planet. We should be safe.”

Keith sighs. “Alright. As long as we don’t lose another lion.”

“We won’t,” Pidge smiles at him. “C’mon, fly back. There’s no Galra after us.”

“Oh god,” Keith says as he looks at the health of all the other lions. “Someone better really needs to pilot the black lion. Look at that poor girl.”

He pulls up an image of the black lion, all scratched and disjointed. It would take a couple of days to fix her up.

“Who would?” Pidge says absent-mindedly.

Keith lowers his head and swallows the lump in his throat.

“Are you alright, Keith?” Pidge asks.

“Course I am,” Keith whispers. They both know it isn’t true.

“We’ll get him back. And my family,” Pidge replies with such conviction, he can’t help but feel sick in his stomach.

* * *

The Morning Knight is on HoloScreen.

Keith walks into the cafeteria, still clad in uniform. His boots hit the floor rhythmically, and the moment that he enters, everyone in the room quiets. A cadet walks past him and stops in her tracks, raising a hand to her face.

“Wrong hand, cadet,” Keith murmurs and shoulders his way past her.  

Hunk hones in on him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, at least be _nice_ to them. I know it’s hard.”

Keith raises his head and turns back, facing the cadet. He dips his head as their eyes meet and her cheeks blush red as she scurries away quickly.

“They all do that,” Keith mutters. “Even the boys. I don’t understand why.”

Hunk lets out a chortle. “Oh, buddy, are you really that blind?”

“What?” Keith exclaims, ready to punch Hunk.

“I’ll tell you when you grow up,” Hunk winks and slides down on one of the seats next to Pidge.

Keith hates eating in the cafeteria, but Pidge has told him that he shouldn’t eat in his room. She says that he needs to be the air of normalcy among an era of uncertainty. So he does this with great reluctance.

But it means seeing the _Morning Night_ more often.

Keith looks at his hands, bunching them tight and releasing them as he tries to draw as much attention away as possible.

“It’s Shiro!” Someone shouts. It causes a large ripple of hatred to permeate through the room and a couple of people throw plates at the screen.

“We pray for the fallen,” a man shouts as he stands on the table. Keith doesn't remember anyone's names apart from Pidge and Hunk, but he could hazard a guess. He thinks the man is Rax, as the soldier holds his hands together and bows. “We pray that he will return to us, as whole as he once was. No longer —”

“Hound!” someone shouts. And they repeat it again and again. The same cadet from before places a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He flinches, reeling back as he looks up, apologising quickly.

“When will we kill him?” she asks. “When will we finally bring his ships down?”

Keith doesn’t have an answer for her.

They don’t know a time when Shiro wasn’t the Morning Knight of Zarkon.

"Will we kill him?" Keith asks. He knows he won't, but he isn't sure about the others. 

They don’t know a time when Shiro wasn’t known the Hound. That nickname that one of the crew had given him out of spite.

Her gaze hardens. “He was the devil amongst us.”

They don’t know the time where Shiro worked in the mines of Mars, teaching Keith the ins and outs of using the drills and the suspension systems.

They joked that they were like spiders. Darn _spiders_ as they glided around the mines.

When Shiro speaks again, the cafeteria quietens, wanting to know what he says.

“On behalf of the realm,” Shiro says in his manufactured voice. It makes Keith wince. He’s never heard Shiro speak like that to him back on Mars. But he guesses being on Luna changes you. Being on Luna changes everyone.

Even his physique. He’s a lot taller than he was before, leaner and far more muscular. Exactly how everyone on Luna looks. He has a new arm now, after having lost his original arm in one of the _Olympic battles_.

It catches the light from the sun, reflecting and gleaming, as golden as the buildings that line the horizon. Zarkon takes care of his prized pets that he’s stolen from different planets.

Beside him the Dusk Knight stands, a man from Europa, one of Jupiter’s colonies.

They call him Lance and he holds a large broadsword on his shoulder. He grins at the camera in that dreamy kind of way, checking out every women and man, eyes surveying them with the kind of lust that Keith could never dream of. Being one of the knights of Zarkon certainly has its list of perks. But Keith is all skin and bones.

Shiro was as well. Back when he was on Mars, his muscles were never as well defined and his jawline was only prominent due to the lack of food they got. On Luna, no one starves. No one except for the servants and everyone who isn’t working directly for Zarkon — Keith thinks bitterly.

It pains Keith every time he looks at him, to see that Shiro had sacrificed himself ten years ago — at the height of the rebellion. A couple years his senior, he pushed Keith into one of the escape pods to send into space, away from their home base on Phobos. Zarkon had come in with a huge fleet, shooting sporadically, not caring if he was hitting his own or the Voltron Alliance.

It’s the only reason why Keith’s still alive.

And the reason why he thought Shiro was dead until earlier this year.

“I would like to thank you all for coming to today’s Olympic tournament.”

A tournament.

Where Shiro gets to prance around in different levels of gravity, waving his rapier around, slashing enough to destroy the armour of his opponent. Keith hates to admit how many times he’s watched Shiro’s fights, wondering if they’ll be his last.

But every time, the _Morning Knight_ seems to win by some sheer luck.

“Unfortunately,” Shiro says, he flashes one of his award-winning smiles. Keith looks away and tries to block him out. “I will not be competing today.”

“ _Wuss!”_ a man in the corner shouts. His gruel now coats the HoloScreen and it drips down Shiro’s face. He nudges the person next to him and points at the screen, laughing.

“Keith,” Pidge whispers quietly. “Keith, you can leave if you want.”

Keith grits his teeth so hard again that his jaw rides with pain. He places his fork down on the table with effort.

“What’s the matter, captain?” the cadet asks.

“Nothing,” Keith says. He gets to his feet and is about to walk. “Cadet, please move.”

“We are asking for a person to be the _Twilight Knight_.”

“Hah,” someone scoffs. “Keith, you could be it.”

The words spark an idea in Keith’s mind. He turns back to the person and sizes them up, eyes widening in hope.

“Then you can kill him,” the man says.

Keith bursts into motion. “Did any of you know Takashi Shirogane personally?” He roars as he moves towards the centre. He looks around, eyeing each one of them carefully with the hard gaze of a commanding officer. “No? I thought so.”

“What are you trying to get to, sir?” the same man asks mockingly. His goofy smile and narrowed eyes make him seem a lot more of a nuisance than he actually would be. He taunts, “That you _loved_ him?”

Keith’s breathing hitches in his throat. “He was taken ten years ago.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, _captain,”_ he says, standing up. “Perhaps you want to kiss the Galra as well. Perhaps you’re waiting to sabotage us.”

“I’ve been fighting for the Voltron Alliance longer than you have _Green Bean,”_ Keith says, glaring at him. “I don’t have the time to deal with insubordination like this.”

“You don’t even know who I am,” the man laughs. “Rax. Doesn’t that ring a bell?”

“What —”

“I have something I want to tell you all,” Rax says as he circles Keith. “You see the man who stands before you? Do you know of his birth? Of his circumstances?”

Keith’s blood runs cold as he dreads what Rax is going to say next. The man is a fighter pilot, years older than him, but had lost his rank under the reign of Allura.

“His mother is —”

“Enough!” Pidge shouts. She gets to her feet and turns off the screen. “We do not need to be fighting among ourselves. And we especially do not need to demonise those who used to be us.”

“Why not?”

“Because then we’re exactly like the _Galra_ ,” Pidge says. Her blue veins pop. Her skin ripples in blue waves, and for a second she looks like a ghost. "Do I make myself clear?" 

She turns to look at Hunk.

“Hunk, can you talk to the chef and ask if he needs someone to help clean all these plates. _Manually_.”

Rax’s mouth opens. He shakes his head and bends on one knee. “I never meant to offend you Captain Holt —”

“For the rest of the week, _Private_ ,” Pidge says as she glances down at him. Seeing Pidge like this was scary, Keith concludes, but he’s glad that she saved him from the scrutiny of the others.

Rax glares back at Keith. “You’ll only betray us with your blood. Just like _Shiro_ did. Why does Allura still keep you?”

* * *

 

Keith can’t sleep.

He wanders the now empty hallways, his fingers tracing the metallic walls.

“I thought I heard you,” Pidge says as she emerges from the other side of the corridor. She holds onto a HoloScreen, the bottom of her face bathed in red lights as she goes through the security of the ship. She doesn’t ask him any questions. They meet like this often — in the early hours of the morning.

They rarely even say anything as they head to the front of the ship, staring out into the vast expanse of space. It’s this kind of relationship Keith prefers. He doesn’t have to talk, he doesn’t have to explain himself.

He just simply has to be.

With Allura, he has to _explain_ all his motivations, he has to wear them on his sleeve so she knows that he won’t betray her. With Hunk, he has to engage in conversations, he has to be the leader he never really wants to be.

He commands fleets. He’s their _captain_.

“I feel like an imposter,” Keith sighs. “I don’t really like this captain business.”

“I don’t either,” Pidge murmurs. “But they look up to us. We’re the Paladins of Voltron. We’re their hope.”

“There’s meant to be _five_ of us.”

“Allura will choose those who are worthy,” Pidge says, but she isn’t so sure.

"She was going to choose Shiro before he left. He was going to be the youngest Paladin." 

Pidge doesn't have anything to say to that. She sits down and begins tapping at the air again.

They lapse into a companionable silence.

“Do you think I’ll betray you?” Keith whispers, his voice cracking.

“You’re not different from us,” Pidge says. She places a hand on his shoulder. “Even if you have Galra blood. We can’t eliminate all the Galra from the Solar System. That would be genocide. We just need to change people’s mindsets, that’s all.”

She’s rambling, just like she always does when she’s trying to cheer Keith up.  

Keith laughs hollowly. “I assume so.”

But he knows what he has to do. He has to save Shiro.

He’s going to become the Twilight Knight.

* * *

 

He wakes up in the early hours of the morning to the sound of blaring sirens. With fluid movement, he grabs his gloves, tugging them close to his hands as he pulls out his weapon — an electrified sword, enough to pass through the defences of any Galra. He rarely sleeps in any other gear than his training gear now. It’s customary for him to wake up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep again — so he would just hit the training ground until his muscles ached and he was asleep again.

He rushes out into the corridor to bleary eyed members of the Voltron Alliance. Keith moves to suit himself up, pushing people out of the way as he layers himself in armour, then he sends a quick message to Pidge.

Her response is immediate: _breach in the hull. Enemy ships are closing in on us fast._

Keith’s already sprinting down the hallway towards the red lion. He shoulders past a couple of people, apologising when one of them falls on the ground. As soon as he passes through the sliding doors, he’s greeted by rapid fire. He ducks behind a shipping crate, heart hammering in his chest. He’s not used to being so exposed. He’s used to being inside the safety of his ship, inside the Red Lion. Hand to hand combat is something he’s practiced in, but not something that he’s ever experienced.

With his sword hand, he imagines the enemies as simulations. Just another simulation. He bounces on the ball of his feet sprints into the fray. Laughing quietly to himself, he slices at one of the Galra in front of him. They’re so much taller than him, but they hadn’t expected him to be running towards them.

They scatter in surprise, firing wild blasts in his general direction. Keith sidesteps them easily, mind immediately pretending that he’s in his ship. That he’s in the Red Lion and that all he has to do is steer his body in the right direction. The Galra speak to one another in muffled tones, their speech jammed from the outside.

He lifts his sword to his face and watches them behind a steely expression. Soon enough, the Galra on him walk away.

Keith stares at them in confusion. But it’s given him enough time to head to the Red Lion. He grabs one of the blasters off the ground and begins his run towards the air hangar, keeping to the shadows. A few Galra snoop around the ships, scanning everything and documenting it on their devices on their arms. Keith narrows his gaze and fires a couple of shots, stunning and hitting the soldier closest to the Green Lion. He sprints across, feet echoing among the now strangely silent hangar.

He pushes the helmet off the Galra soldier. Not recognising his face, Keith palms his hand into the man’s nose so that it bleeds for when he wakes up. The Galra deserve that anyway. Then he begins deftly undoing the device on the man’s arm and pockets it.

He’s about to jump into his ship when he has to drop to the ground for cover. Another group of Galra Soldiers enter through the gaping hole in their hangar. Their footsteps make the ship vibrate beneath him and he’s breathing heavily, sliding as close as he can for cover. He ducks beneath the Red Lion and lies flat on his stomach, quietly hoping that no one finds him.

Quietly hoping that someone is going to come and lead the assault away.

“I want to capture the Black Lion,” a voice that’s so achingly familiar shouts. Keith drags his arms against the floor as he tries to get closer, tries to see where he is among the soldiers. “Bring the Black Lion to me and we shall not kill any more of your people.”

Allura’s voice echoes among the hangar, steely and unwavering. “I will never surrender our ships to the Galra.”

“So be it,” Shiro says. He lifts up a hand and walks away from the front of the soldiers, back into the crowd. Keith scrambles to his feet, keeping to the side of the battle.

The background noise is now Ion Blasters against flame throwers. The integrity of the ship has been compromised at this point. Keith doesn’t know how long it’s going to take for them to fix it. But for the time being, he doesn’t care.

He scrambles onto the Galra ship that deployed the soldiers, following Shiro as close as he dared. The man he knows glides towards his quarters and leans on one of the chairs. Stress lines his forehead as he pinches the bridge of his nose. In these unguarded moments, Keith can see the boy he met on Mars, the boy who’s now a warlord for the enemy. But as he straightens his back, the mask solidifies and he pulls up the cameras he’s set up around the entire Voltron Alliance.

Keith’s breathing stills.

The entire Voltron Alliance.

He has eyes on Pidge, located in the cockpit, drumming away at her screens. He has eyes on Allura who’s currently putting on her armour. He has eyes on Coran who is gliding about at the base of the ship, resetting and turning valves to maintain on board pressure.

There’s a camera just outside Keith’s room.

Anger boils in Keith’s blood. He moves slowly and stealthily, raising his weapon against Shiro’s neck.

“I didn’t know you were that creepy,” Keith hisses as he turns on the heat on his blade. It sizzles, far too close to Shiro’s neck, but he knows that the man can easily overpower him. “One wrong move and you’re dead.”

“Keith,” Shiro says. The surprise in his voice is evident. There’s a certain level of relief to it. There’s a certain level of regret. He regains his composure, though the tension still rides in his shoulders. “How did you get past all the soldiers?”

“You know how easy it is to get past the Galra watching over us in the mines,” Keith says, never losing the venom in his voice. He shoves him closer to the control panels. “Why are you one of them now?”

Shiro shakes his head. He doesn’t answer, so when Keith threatens him with the sword to his neck, he spits it out. “Because I’m protecting the people I love. I’m protecting Mars.”

“Lies,” Keith roars. He tightens his grip. Shiro’s so much taller than him now. He’s built like a Galra, with height and strength to match. The only way that Keith could beat him is if he kills him right now.

But he doesn’t want to do that.

Shiro examines him closely, taking in his features. Keith squirms under his scrutiny, feeling the grime of Shiro’s _Galra_ influenced stare size him up and down. But on the other hand, the man is making up the lost time between him.

His eyebrows furrow, mouth tugging into a forlorn frown. “How many years?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says with gritted teeth. But he wants to say _ten._ It’s been _ten_ years since Shiro’s been captured, and Keith’s no longer the scrawny boy he used to be. But he’s not as muscular as Shiro, he’s not as _modified_ as Shiro.

“Do you know what the Galra call you?” Shiro asks. Keith shakes his head, but he knows. He loves the name, he revels in it. “They call you the _Hurricane_.”

Keith scoffs and folds his arms. “Am I?”

“You destroy everything you touch,” Shiro says.

Keith’s face flushes red. “Do you know what the people on the Voltron Alliance call you?”

“What?” Shiro’s more curious than anything. He’s talking with trepidation. He’s not the Shiro that Keith grew up with, but Keith can’t vouch that he’s the same child all those years ago. They both grew up in the heart of war. They’re children of war and know nothing else.

“The hound.”

Shiro’s perfectly sculpted mask shatters for that split moment and he whispers, “Why?”

Keith let’s out a large breath of air. “Why don’t you guess?”

“I care about our people, Keith,” Shiro says, bunching his hands into a fist. “I _care_ about our people.”

“You stopped caring for Mars when you became one of them, when you became one of the _Olympic Knights_ we used to despise!” Keith shouts back at him. “You’re Zarkon’s _dog_. When you’re of no use to him, he’ll kill you. Toss you aside like a ragdoll.”

“Sometimes,” Shiro whispers, but the words pain him. “Sometimes, you have to get onto the level of your enemy to defeat them.”

Shiro’s movements are fast. He grips Keith’s wrist so hard that it snaps. Shiro gasps and he almost lets go at that moment in shock. The sword in Keith's hand drops to the ground uselessly, clattering in the empty cockpit. He stares uselessly at the space Shiro used to occupy, unsure how to move as the pain rides up his arm.

Shiro grips Keith’s arms, pinning him down on the ground, knee into his back. As he hits the floor, he manages to bite his tongue, tasting blood. He groans, blinking the stars from his eyes as he tries to shift against Shiro’s grip, but the man leans further against his back.

The man is so much stronger than he remembered. But then again, the last time they were in the same room together, Keith was twelve and Shiro was fourteen.

“Why did you come chase me?” Shiro hisses between gritted teeth.

“Because —“

Keith doesn’t have the answers.

“You’ve compromised most of this,” Shiro says. “I’m fighting for you. Not against you.”

“Can’t they record —“

“Audio is never recorded,” Shiro interrupts. “ _Why_ are you here?”

“Because I wanted you back.”

The words catch Shiro off guard, enough that his grip loosens. Keith tries to move again, but pain flies up his arm and he gasps out in pain, looking at the useless area that used to have movement.

“Why the _fuck_ did you smash my wrist?”

“Keith, you have to leave now,” Shiro says. “Before my crew gets here. You have to leave _now_.”

He turns his head to see watery eyes.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Shiro whispers.

“What —“

“Don’t come after me again, Keith. I can’t tell them how the Voltron Alliance’s Paladin slipped through my fingers a second time,” Shiro says. He rolls Keith over him, pushing him as he tries to simulate a fight. Keith picks up on it, eyes wide, confusion running through his veins, but he still stumbles back, raising his fists to his eyes as he lunges at Shiro. 

Shiro dodges. “Punch me with your best shot and _run._ ”

Keith stares at him in horror. He lets out a shaky breath and swings at Shiro, but purposely misses. He rolls through the emergency escape pod and grabs a helmet, glad that he’s wearing armour. With his good hand, he pulls at the exit rail, his body sucked into the abyss of space like a ragdoll. The cold temperatures of space greet him like an old friend as his eyes meet Shiro’s through the circular window of his spaceship.

Shiro turns away immediately and walks away as Keith floats further away, caught in between warring spacecrafts and space dust, desperately wanting to be next to Shiro once more.


	2. Chapter 2

The coldness of space bleeds into his suit. He floats, body tense, like he’s hanging in the mines, with a taut string keeping him stable. It's exactly like being stranded in the mines of Mars, unable to do anything until someone comes to save him. If someone notices. In the Martian mines, no one hears you scream. It's the same in space, he's noticed.

He counts, using his breath as a metronome. Anxiety oozes through him. What if no one’s coming to save him? What if no one knows he’s out here?

Dying _alone_ in space is all his fears culminated in one. Time and time again, he’s tried to find  a group of people, anyone who could simply fill the void of lost family. And it looks like when family matters the most is the moment they leave you.

Darkness closes in, his teeth chatter. Hypothermia. He’s going to die. He knows it.

From the corner of his eye, he sees a ship glide straight past him. Hope comes in ebbs whenever he sees a spacecraft seemingly move closer towards him.

When a ship gets close enough to him, his lips are blue and he’s feverish. He’s muttering beneath his breath as strong arms grab him.

_Twelve hundred and two —_

_Twelve hundred and three —_

One moment he’s floating, the next he’s legs tangle beneath him on the ground as gravity sets back. He groans as a heat blanket gets draped across his shoulders. Allura sits on her haunches in front of him, concern gracing her features as she pushes hair from her face. She clutches the sides of his head, the helmet hissing as it unlatches itself from his suit. Keith gasps, slumping on her shoulder as he sucks the air greedily.

“Keith,” Hunk’s voice drifts into his ear. “Keith, buddy, you’re going to have to say something.”

“Hey,” Keith groans, as he looks up, his head as heavy as lead. "It was pretty cool out there." 

"Was that a joke?" Hunk blinks blankly back at Keith. Then he stares back at Allura. "Hey, Keith tried to make a joke!"

Keith musters a small smile and looks back down at the floor, ready to roll, ready to pass out from the pain that runs up his arm. With his one good hand, he tugs at the blanket, bringing it closer to him.

“We have to get him to the healing pod,” Allura says. There’s a small level of relief in her voice, but she doesn’t say anything else.

“You’re not even going to thank him?” Hunk exclaims. “He just got onto the enemy’s ship and practically saved our asses.”

Allura glances at him and closes her eyes. She opens her mouth, as if to say something, but then she closes it again. The wounds of the past still cling to her, and she hasn’t figured out how to forgive Keith just yet. It’s his history. An apology for the death of her family and bloodline. Being one of the last people left in her bloodline, the Alteans, she hasn’t found a way to forgive Keith for being born.

“He didn’t kill your family,” Hunk says. “When will you differentiate that? He can't atone for his ancestor's sins.”

“When he proves to me he is trustworthy,” Allura replies with a certain air of calm that makes Keith wince. She wasn't always like this with him. “That he isn’t going to betray us —”

“Hasn’t he proved that he’s trustworthy time and time again?” Hunk pushes. His shoulders are tense as he angles his body between Allura and Keith.

“Hm,” Allura says as she gets to her feet. She turns away, not completely saying anything, not completely trusting Keith. If he wasn’t on the brink of passing out, it would have tugged at his heartstrings.

Hunk’s voice takes a desperate turn, “He’s not going to betray us. His family was killed by Zarkon himself. You saw the feed. You saw his parents get tortured by the Galra.”

Instead of answering, she goes back pilot the spacecraft towards the mother ship.

* * *

 

“It was recon,” Pidge says. She’s holding up her screen, pointing at all the evidence with the confidence of a scientist with facts.

Keith holds the glass of water in his good hand, swirling it as he stares at a spot just to the right of Allura’s hand. He leans back on his seat, his body still stiff from emerging out of the healing pod minutes prior. All he had got to do since he was fully healed was wash his face and grab a drink of water and then he was faced with a strategy meeting. His stomach growls loud enough for him to flinch, but no one else notices.

To his left is Hunk who watches Pidge carefully, listening to every word she says. Strategy isn’t his forte, but he’s good at pointing out the flaws in people’s strategies.  

“But why?” Hunk asks.

“It was to see what we’re made of,” Pidge says. “We can battle them in the heart of the asteroid belt, but we can’t battle them face to face.”

Coran holds an E-Pen in his mouth, squinting at the images Pidge has provided. He then scribbles down some numbers and nods to himself, as if confirming it. “We don’t have enough ships. Their ships outnumber us thirty to one.”

“We _also_ don’t have enough experienced pilots or soldiers,” Keith intervenes. He tries to get up but winces, ghost pains riding up his arms. It always happens after breaks in his bones, but it surprises him all the time. Pidge’s gaze rests on Keith, a silent question: are you alright?

He dips his head, to acknowledge it. The visible scars mean nothing to him. It’s the mental strain that makes his heart stutter.

“If my calculations are correct,” Coran says, fiddling with his moustache. He slips the E-Pen behind his ear, lip curled to a point that it grinds on Keith’s nerves. “We need at least two first class fighter ships. We need to ask people from the Outer Planets if they will join our cause.”

“You know they won’t talk to us,” Allura replies with a tight jaw in her strange, over emphasised accent. She wasn’t always like this. But the stress of war and rebellion take away a person’s happiness. It lines seeds of doubt in the garden of memory until she only has a few people she trust.

And these few people she trust sit around her now. But even then, she still stares at Keith warily.

“They only won’t trust us because we ended up using their ships against them,” Keith says, folding his arms. He puts up his feet on the table and leans back. “In case you forgot that.”

“I did what I had to do,” Allura replies. “Sometimes, it’s not always the right decision.”

“You didn’t _listen_ to me,” Keith shouts back at her, slamming his glass against the table. The water splatters and he draws his hand back suddenly.

Pidge tries to disperse the tension in the room. “We need to contact our ships that we’ve hidden in the external parts of the solar system. But we can’t be caught unaware like this again.”

There's a couple of mumbles and nods in agreement around the table.

“What else is there to report, Pidge?” Allura asks. Her chair screeches on the metal as she pushes it back, fingers laced behind her back. She walks towards the window and stares out into the darkness of space.

“We were able to capture the Dusk Knight,” Pidge says. ““He’s currently locked in one of the cells.”

“Have you got any information from him?”

“We are trying, but he has been silent.”

“The Dusk Knight _silent?”_ Hunk raises his eyebrows and snorts. “Who would’ve known.”

“He’s afraid of the repercussions of revealing something,” Pidge says. “We have to make sure _our_ fear is worse than his.”

“Why don’t we give him something that’ll loosen his tongue?” Coran asks, raising his finger. “Your family in the Altean tribe had plenty —”

“The drug that you use has been known to be unreliable,” Pidge replies. “Torture is also unreliable.”

Keith grits his teeth. He knows how it works. How much the Galra loved to torture the people of Mars. “But it gives us answers. We’ll have to discern whether or not they’re true.”

“Keith,” Pidge opens her mouth. “You of all people. You’ve witnessed torture first hand and you still endorse it?”

“I endorse anything that’ll give us answers,” Keith replies bluntly with a sharp glare. “I will speak to him tonight, if I have your permission All — Princess.”

“Permission granted,” Allura says, but she doesn’t turn around.

Keith wipes the water off the table with the sleeve of his uniform. Pidge’s jaw tightens as she watches him leave.  

* * *

The Dusk Knight sits on the chair with his back to Keith. His once pristine white uniform is now soaked in layers of sweat, turning yellow. He

He doesn’t acknowledge Keith as he walks into the cell.

As Keith moves in front of him, he looks at the man with trepidation. He’s from Europa, a race known for their skin that mimics their midnight sky. Up close, he looks different to he’s seen on television. Small diamonds or jewels line the inside of his arm — apparently a marker of all the battles he’s been in and won. The larger the jewel, the larger the battle. A couple of the ones closest to the nape of his neck are large and they boast of his most recent endeavours: snuffing out and destroying the rebel group on Kerberos.

The planet doesn’t exist now, and it makes Keith’s blood boil at the thought of it.

“Dusk Knight,” Keith says, folding his arms as he stands in front of Lance.

“Hurricane," Lance scoffs as he looks him up and down. "I thought you’d be taller.”

Keith doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t.

“And is that a _mullet?”_ he exclaims. “Either you don’t have good personal hygiene or you just think that looks really good. You’re a disaster.”

“I didn’t come here to talk about my fashion sense,” Keith murmurs. “Look. This is either going to be easy, or hard. Which one do you want, _Dusk Knight?”_

“You’re giving me a choice?” Lance asks with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not telling you anything, _Hurricane_.”

“My name is Keith,” he all but mumbles.

“And my name is Lance. Yet you still call me _Dusk Knight,_ ” he says with a lopsided grin. He looks Keith up and down in a way that makes him shudder. “I didn’t think… Martians would be that _fiesty_ up close.” He chatters his teeth in the air and winks. “But I guess they call you a _red_ planet for a reason.”

Keith takes a step back, trying to avoid Lance's words. It makes him feel awkward and his cheeks burn red. “Where is your weakest base?”

Lance lets out a proper, hearty laugh. “You _think_ I’m going to tell you that?”

“You’re going to have to tell me sooner or later. I’d rather it sooner,” Keith replies as evenly as possible.

The air inside the room suddenly becomes too tight. The thought of having to carry out his threat hangs heavy on his shoulders and makes his movements sluggish. He bites back at the surge of panic.

“You can’t be a man who tortures,” Lance says with a snide curl. “You’re too pretty.”

Keith blinks at the comment. “What?”

“You heard me, pretty boy,” Lance grins. “Why don’t you be _my_ hurricane?”

Keith slams his fist against Lance’s shirt.

“Oh, feisty,” Lance laughs. “Just how I like it.”

The silk fabric catches Keith off guard, wondering if all armour on Luna is made up of something as soft as that. Keith's own uniform is scratchy against his skin.

“Do you want it?” Lance says with a sigh, noticing how long Keith holds onto the uniform. “It’s pretty nice.”

Keith lets go immediately, a little disgusted with himself for holding on for so long. He pulls up his HoloScreen and twists the button to the side. "You have one last chance, Dusk Knight."

Lance looks him evenly in the eyes. "No."

Keith presses the buttons with a heavy heart, sending electric waves through Lance’s body. His body convulses he screams, voice a lonely echo in the chamber of memories. His shoulders slump and his breathing is heavy.

Keith screws his eyes shut. “I can make this all end.”

Each word comes out forced. Each word makes him hate himself even more. He wallows in the inky sea of self-loathing and wishes for the storm to pass. He has to do this. He _has_ to do this. For the sake of the Voltron Alliance.

For the sake of the rebel group.

“Can you?” Lance says with a weak smile.

He doesn’t answer until Keith presses the button once more, causing another scream to pierce the tense air.

“Zarkon’s weakest base is on _Mimas_ ,” Lance breathes out. “Saturn’s planet. But it’s only weak because he harbours fusionic weapons.”

“Fusionic weapons?”

Lance doesn’t reply immediately causing Keith to send another round of electrical pulses through his veins. He shouts out, eyes watering. “I was just about to say something.” He hisses. “They’re bombs that rely on the fusion of hydrogen. You set one off, it’s basically a supernova.”

“What does he plan on doing —”

“He’s planning on destroying the current rebel rising on Callisto. He’s going to blow the moon.”

Keith’s breathing stills. He doesn’t exactly know how these bombs work, but having a moon disappear into shards doesn’t sound good. With his free hand, he sends a message to Pidge, wondering if she caught any of them.

A short message of affirmation gets sent to him a split second later.

“And what’s the best way to enter Luna?”

“By going through the front,” Lance says simply.

“Without being detected.”

“I can’t tell you that, Hurricane,” Lance replies immediately.

Keith threatens him with the electric shock once more, but Lance doesn’t budge. He firmly presses his mouth shut as his entire body convulses, as he gasps and screams. But he doesn’t say anything. Loyalty — or is it fear — binds secrecy to his chest.

Keith hates himself for this. But it’s a technique that the Galra used on the people in the mines when he was there. He grabs his blade and slowly heats it up, placing it against Lance’s splayed fingers. He’ll take the middle one, he decides, with reluctance. It’s the least useful one, he tries to reason with himself.

“Don’t do this, Keith,” Lance begs. “You’re not one of Zarkon’s men.”

“You would do the same to me,” Keith mutters. He lowers his knife, close enough that Lance’s fingers twitch as the heat bleeds through.

“I’ll show you,” Lance shouts. Keith doesn’t move but he keeps his hand steady. Lance’s breathing slows. “Touch one of the diamonds.”

Keith knows that this is one way of sharing memories among their kind, but he never thought it could be done with others.  

“It won’t be a battle,” Lance says, sensing his hesitance. “I won’t do that to you... pretty boy.”

He moves over and touches the crystal against Lance’s arm. The memory floods into him vividly. The salty smell of the hangar stings his nose and there’s the electrical buzz that Lance can feel, but he knows that he — as a Martian — can’t. They walk through the base. The amount of guards patrolling the area is low, and Lance knows it.

“I come here when I don’t want to be seen by anyone,” Lance murmurs.

It’s a small fact. An opening or some sort of vulnerability that Keith isn’t sure what to do with. So he presses his lips into a fine line, trying to gather as much information as possible.

“This is the door the central hub, you don’t want to go through here,” Lance says.

Keith’s mental map of Luna widens. Then all of a sudden, the memory fades and Keith pulls back quickly.

“It’s strangely intimate, isn’t it?” Lance chuckles.

“Thank you, Dusk Knight,” Keith says, trying to ignore Lance completely. He brushes his hand against the back of his neck and taps his foot on the ground, thoughts whirring as he wonders what he’s going to do with the information. Lance stretches his neck, the sweat dripping down his neck in large drips of water.

“Are you going to leave me like this?” Lance asks, though his voice shakes. Beneath his bravado is a scared boy, the same age as Keith, with the weight of Zarkon’s empire on his shoulders.

Keith almost feels sorry for him.

Almost.

With one final cold glance, he takes in Lance, and leaves the prison cell. But before he leaves, he presses the button that undoes the shackles around Lance.

Feet scramble to the floor and he hears, “You know he talks about you. When he doesn’t think anyone is listening.”

Keith hesitates for a moment, wanting to ask more, but he doesn’t. It’s probably a trap.

So he smiles wistfully to himself, humouring the thought that out there, Shiro is still waiting for him.

* * *

Pidge’s skin glows as she hums, holding a soldering iron as she pieces together one of her circuit boards. The fume extractor shudders in front of her, ready to pounce. In the other corner of the workspace is Hunk, who is currently fixing the hull of the spacecraft. The robot beside him beeps as the laser cutter screeches through the metal.

“Hold on buddy,” Hunk mutters. “Not completely like that.” He readjusts the settings and tilts his head. As the metal clatters uselessly on the ground, he bends over to pick it up.  

Keith coughs lightly into his fist before he enters.

“I was wondering when you’d come,” Pidge says, not lifting her head from her work. He doesn’t expect her to. She’s connected to every security system in the Castle of Lions and there isn’t anything she _doesn’t_ know about. “We’re currently working on —”

“Look, Keith,” Hunk jumps up and down. He grabs Keith by his arm and drags him towards the other side of the room. A weapon lays suspended in the air, between two magnetic clips. Hunk readjusts it so that Keith can see it a little better.

“What is it?” Keith asks, as he bends down on his knees to inspect it closer. He holds his hand out to touch it, but is only greeted by Hunk slapping his wrist away.

“It’s a portable ion blaster. One shot and it can bore a hole in _any_ ship. I’m thinking of putting it on the Red Lion,” Hunk nods to himself. “I haven’t run all the tests yet but I think it’s getting there.”

“That’s awesome news!” Keith says as he bumps Hunk’s shoulder with his fist. Hunk preens and begins rambling a little more, but Keith is no longer listening. He lets out a tight breath of air and straightens his back.

“Why are you walking as if you’ve got the world on your back, Keith?” Pidge asks. Again, she isn’t looking at him directly. Her arm throbs blue as she places the last bit of solder onto the board. She slides her chair towards the power supply and mumbles to herself.

“I don’t know what to do next,” Keith replies. “I don’t think we can extract any more information from Lance unless —”

“I understand,” Pidge replies. “Torture is not the best method. But I believe we now have a bargaining chip.”

“What will we bargain for?” Keith asks, arching his brows.

“Hah.” Pidge pushes her glasses above her head and laces her hands together. She blinks rapidly and the lights that set her apart start to fade one by one. Slowly, she looks like the human before the genetic editing, but the moment she starts talking, everything lights up again like fireworks bursting across a dark sky.

“I was so close to controlling that.” The sadness in her voice is tangible.

“You’re improving,” Hunk says in the background. “You held onto it for a little longer this time. Soon you'll be dark _forever!_ ”

“It’s one of the reasons why I can’t do any espionage missions,” Pidge groans, tilting her head back. “I — know this is selfish. But look at this.”

She pushes a screen towards Keith. A clip plays rapidly and then slows down, zooming in on a figure that has a striking resemblance to Pidge. He pinches the screen to zoom a little more. “It’s them, isn’t it?”

Pidge nods. “My brother and father.”

“You want to use Lance as a bargaining tool for that,” Keith concludes.

“I know it’s selfish —” Pidge repeats and she looks at her hands again. “I know it really is, but I miss them. And they deserve to be free.”

“Allura wouldn’t agree,” Keith says, outlining the fact.

“I know,” Pidge swallows. “It was stupid. I’m sorry, I’ll —”

Keith places  a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?” her eyes light up.

Keith nods. What does he have to lose? He could ask Lance for some codes, but it’s likely that they change everyday. He draws his tattered coat across his shoulders, as he mulls how he’s going to approach this. The coat is a remnant of his past, once belonging to his father. It’s a dark red, faded and with holes in odd places. But he wears it anyway.

It makes him feel safe.

“I can send a message to Zarkon without Allura knowing,” Pidge replies. She pulls up her screen and begins typing.

“What if you get captured, though?” Hunk exclaims. “Am I the only one who’s seeing sense?”

“I can run quicker than they can. You know how fast I am,” Keith says, folding his arms.

“I also know what kind of _weapons_ they have! What if you get captured? You could die!” Hunk’s face falls. “Or worse! Be deprived of food!”

Keith laughs. “I’ve experienced worse, Hunk.”

“Just saying —”

“I can prepare a pod for you,” Pidge says. “But are you sure you want to do this?”

“You either choose to burn bright and fast,” Keith whispers as he stares into the darkness of space. “Or you don’t live at all.”

He leans forward, eyes twinkling with the idea of adventure.

“I choose to burn bright and fast.”

* * *

The meeting place is just between Earth and Mars. Keith slowly flies his vehicle there. It isn’t the red lion, but he moves the controllers like they’re an extension of his body. Every time he flies, he knows he’s in his element.

Lance sits in the seat next to him, arms tied in front of him and body firmly tucked behind another layer of restraints. Throughout the entire ride, Lance has tried engaging in conversation with him.

“So, what were your parents like?” he asks.

Keith grunts in response.

“You do realise that this is most likely a trap?” Lance finally says.

Keith again, grunts. There are backup ships flying incognito behind him. Pidge has guaranteed his safety and he’ll make sure he guarantees her family’s travel home.

“Well,” Lance tilts his head back and laughs. “I never thought you were that stupid, but apparently you are. You’re going to die out here, Hurricane. You’re going to _die._ ”

“We’ll see about that,” Keith mumbles his response. He trusts Pidge. They both knew that Sendak would try something funny, so they had proposed mitigation for that. Pidge is watching carefully, Keith knows and she’s going to be the one to protect him if anything goes awry.

As soon as they reach the meeting point, Keith slams on the breaks. He locks everything, finger thrumming with energy as he hovers them over the scanner. One ship is headed in their direction. There could be more, hidden behind a coating of jammers and electrical waves.

Keith surveys the sky with suspicion, his throat suddenly becoming dry. Screams are muffled in space and he knows it. Lance also knows it. The knowing smirk on the Dusk Knight’s lips makes Keith’s heart rate increase tenfold. He folds his arms and waits, foot tapping at the ground as he counts his breaths.

His screen flashes red and he almost jumps. Lance laughs loudly, causing Keith to glare back at him as he answers the call. Sendak stands in front of the camera, square on, with his arms folded. His bionic eye glistens as it takes in Keith’s meagre surroundings. Keith puffs out his chest in response, trying to hide his fear.

In the background is Shiro who barely looks at the screen. He leans on one of the consoles in the background. Keith isn’t sure whether or not he imagines it, but there’s a long line of dark and purple skin that now sculpt his face.If Keith remembered correctly, the man appears to have lost a bit of weight, with dark circles rimming his eyes.

But what’s definite is the fact that in between the weeks that have passed since they last met, Shiro’s physique has collapsed a little.

“Sendak,” Keith tilts his head. “A pleasure to see you up close, _finally_.”

“The feeling is mutual, Hurricane.”

“He has a name,” Shiro mutters, enough for Keith to hear.

Sendek turns to Shiro. “Did I ask you to speak?”

Shiro lowers his head again and shakes his head. Sweat glistens his neck. Keith’s stomach sinks to new depths as he sees Shiro’s bloodshot eyes and the way his hands shake.

“What did you give him?” Keith asks, glaring at Sendek.

“You care? He’s your enemy,” Sendak grins. “Or is he _really?_ After freeing you —”

Shiro bends down on one knee. He coughs loudly, and is shaking more violently now. His lips are cracked and the veins along his face pop. “I am your sword,” Shiro wheezes.

Keith pieces together his mask haphazardly, trying to pretend that he doesn’t care about what’s happening in the background.

“Where’s Matthew Holt —”

“Right here,” Sendak says, shoving them into the camera view. The two of them are skin and bones, but they’re alive. Keith sags in relief, knowing that Pidge sees them too.

“Then, shall we trade?” Keith asks with a curl to his lip.

“Send the pod over and we’ll send ours.”

Keith grabs Lance and hoists him to his feet. The Dusk Knight simply laughs again, and whispers in his ear, “You trust Sendak?”

“You trust me?” Keith murmurs.

“Oh?” Lance grimaces when Keith palms him in the chest, shoving him into the tightly spaced pod. His eyes surveys the vastness of space, waiting for Sendak’s side of the deal to come over. He locks the door and presses the button as the pod hisses as it detaches from the craft. It wobbles a bit as it deploys into space before colliding with the pod.

There are two life forms on the pod that Sendak sends, enough for Keith to make out as the Holts. He readies his vehicle, bracing in anticipation to run and grab them. As his vehicle boomerangs past, he grabs it and sighs in relief as he sees Matthew Holt and his father slumped in the centre.

Their eyes widen when they see Keith, mouth quivering with uncertainty. Keith undoes the latch on the door and stumbles inside. He hoists them to standing positions and deftly undoes the rope, willing his hands to stay still.

“Matt,” Keith whispers, pulling him close. “You know how to fly, right?”

“Vaguely,” Matt replies, his voice hoarse as if he hasn’t used it for a while. His eyes searches for Keith for an answer, but when Keith points to the other pod in the corner, realisation dawns upon him.

“Make sure you turn on the cloak,” Keith says. He snaps his legs together, raising a fist to his chest and nods at them both. “Get back to Pidge.”

Matt breathes out heavily and helps his father as they lip towards the smaller spacecraft. Keith waits for them to leave, making sure they leave safely. When they’re completely out of sight, Keith bounces on the balls of his feet and rubs his hands in anticipation.

“Alright, Keith,” he mutters to himself. “You know what you have to do.”

He steers his vehicle and starts flying straight at Sendak’s ship, ready to reclaim the Dusk Knight. It’s the fear of Allura’s disapproval that propels him forward. He’s a fighter, he’s good at dodging. He can do this.

In his mind, he’s run through the statistics. There’s a ninety percent probability that he’s going to fail. But he likes to think he’s lucky.

He rears his vehicle to a stop, blocking Lance’s pod from travelling any further.

A request for conversation flashes across his screen.

He accepts it.

“Keith,” Shiro shouts. “Keith, don’t do this.”

Keith’s eyes dart as he tries to figure out the situation unfolding before him. Sendak’s hand twists Shiro’s metallic arm so that he’s pinned against the controls. His cheeks are red and his breathing is heavy.

“Let him do what he wants,” Sendak hisses back and turns off the comms with a zap. Mind whirring, Keith grabs his boosted boots and his weapon, hands fumbling as he puts them on. He grabs his helmet, dipping his head as he says a silent prayer to any god that would listen to him.

“ _Keith_ ,” Pidge’s voice is now loud with panic. “What are you doing? This isn’t part of the plan. Keith I can't save you if you get out of the neper -”

Her cries are silenced when he disconnects the call. Determination makes him stand straight. He dives out of the craft and kicks his heels together. The warmth from the flames propel him forward. He slows as he reaches the pod, latching himself onto it.

Lance arches an eyebrow behind the glass, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s given up trying to figure out Keith and even Keith himself has given up trying to solve the mystery that is his own brain. As soon as they touch on Sendak’s ship, Keith jumps off.

Sword extending and vibrating with power, he darts between each of the Galra soldiers. They collapse one by one as if he’s the puppet master and they’re the marionettes. With a loud growl, he thrusts his sword into one of the Galra’s chest, his sword now coated in purple.

They don’t even bleed the same as _him_. He looks at them with disgust and places his hand on the pod, glass opening.

“You should try swinging my sword around,” Lance says with a half grin.

Keith lifts him to his feet, keeping the sword close to Lance’s neck. “Take me to the control room.”

Lance complies without another word. Between their silence as they walk down the halls, Keith’s anxiety exponentially grows. There’s no one coming.

Why the fuck is there no one coming?

"The big reveal, Hurricane," Lance laughs. "Oh, you're so naive."

As soon as the doors open in the main control room, Keith knows he's made a mistake. He could run, disappear now, it would make sense. But the moment he catches Shiro in the corner, his feet plant to the ground and he's stuck there. The Galra solders rush towards him.

“Make one move and I’ll kill him!” Keith shouts, eyes rabid as he shakes Lance in front of him.

“Lance,” Sendak says. “Would you care to do the honours?”

The air rushes from Keith’s lungs as he feels Lance’s leg hit his stomach. He keels over, sword clattering uselessly to the floor as he clutches his stomach. A couple of Galra grab his arms, but he quickly snaps his feet together, activating his boosted boots. For a second he’s in the air and his feet make contact with a couple of Galra. Loud cracks echo in the room and as soon as he hears the clicks of weapons aimed at him, he drops to the ground, rolling quick enough to grab his sword. He eyes them all, dangerously waving his sword about, like a trapped lion, too proud to surrender.

“Cut the games, Hurricane,” Sendak says.

Keith screams loudly as electricity wracks through his veins, back taut as his knees hit the ground. His muscles seize and his vision goes black for a second.

 Gruff hands grab his arms and ties them to his back, the handcuffs burning his wrists. He slowly counts in his mind, trying his hardest to forget the memories that swell through his mind of times in the Martian mines. He’s had these handcuffs one too many times, and he knows how to break free of them, but the task at this point is pretty much useless, he thinks with sinking realisation. He has no weapons and he's surrounded by the Galra.

“I didn’t think it would be that easy to capture you,” Sendak says, another laugh echoing in the control room. “The Hurricane of _Mars_. You do destroy everything you touch.”

Footsteps move closer towards him and stop. His breathing slows as he tries to figure out who it is and flinches when he hears the voice.

“What did I tell you?” Shiro says, his voice but a pale memory. “Patience yields focus.”

Keith _knows._ But he’s been governed by impulses. It’s the only reason why he keeps winning. He’ll do something unexpected, he’ll wreak havoc that no one could see coming. He’s the _hurricane_ of _Mars_ , not the well thought out natural hazard.

“What happened to you?” Keith whispers, trying to seek answers.

Shiro doesn’t answer, but Keith swears that he’s taken a step back.

“Bonding time is over,” Sendak proclaims. Two Galra soldiers grab him by the shoulders and pushes him against the wall. They search through every one of his pockets, not bothering with modesty or care as they push up his shirt, pinch his back and tug down his pants.

Keith squeezes his eyes shut and begins counting. This will all pass soon.

They find a myriad of weapons hidden in his pockets. Soon, all of them are scattered on the ground and his chances of escaping grow slimmer by the moment. He’s thrust to the ground and he wiggles, trying to regain a shred of modesty as he pulls up his pants. His boots get confiscated as well.

“So,” Sendak proclaims loudly. “To all you rebels. I have captured your valued _Hurricane_. See how he grovels in front of me.”

Keith lifts his gaze, trying to search for the sound of his voice and says with as much venom as he can, “I will never yield for you.”

“Hah,” Sendak laughs — one of those laughs that sends shivers through his body. “I didn’t expect anything less from the Hurricane of Mars.”

* * *

 

He's locked up inside a glass box. When his captors disappear, he tries to move his leg, but something magnetic keeps him tied to the centre. He looks around to see that he’s the only one in the rows of glass boxes. Perhaps they keep all their prisoners of war here. But when they come back to ask him questions, he maintains his silence for most of it, listening out to any changes in footsteps or noise around. He notices that Sendak walks with clear crisp tones, heel hitting the floor first. Shiro walks a little differently, with a slight shuffle and trepidation, as if he's scoping out the area. Lance came once. To scoff at him, to laugh. But mostly to flirt with him. His walk is cocky and arrogant, with a slight bounce.

They come and ask him questions, they try to force it out from him. But he doesn’t answer them. Instead, when someone came too close — he doesn’t care who — he bites them until he has the coppery taste of blood on his lips. In the end, they put a muzzle around his face.

He licks his lips, a grotesque laugh escaping from his mouth. He doesn’t regret it, though.

Licking his dry lips, but it does little to alleviate his parched throat. Sweat drips down his face. The glass cube is uncomfortably hot and he swears they’re doing this all on purpose.

They don’t ask him questions about the Voltron Alliance when they do come, though. They taunt him, they laugh, they torture him. He doesn’t know how many days have passed, _if_  any days have passed. Time has become an illusion for him.

When he sees Sendak for the twelth time, he tries to hold back a groan. Shiro stands behind him, always following him and always in his shadow. The duty of the Olympic Knights is to protect the ruling sovereign or his second in command. It appears that Shiro has been tasked with Sendak.

Shiro’s face is even more gaunt now, his cheekbones showing. There are large welts that go up his neck and scratches that he can’t hide beneath his eyes. When their gazes meet, Shiro is the first one to avert his own, almost in shame.

“I think we’re going to play a game,” Sendak says. He stands on the opposite side of the glass. He taps at it and laughs. “We want to see how you fair against all the other Twilight Knight candidates.”

Keith shudders at the thought. His initial plan was to become the Twilight Knight, but that would have been after months of training, and getting fitter and stronger. Here, he’s skin and bones — a tortured, broken doll that only moves when set aflame.

He stretches his neck and glares back.

“Isn’t that a good idea?” Sendak grins. “We also have Ulaz who can alter your body mass so you actually stand a chance against the other candidates.”

“I’ll beat them all,” Keith whispers. “Then I’ll kill you as well.”

A curl to his lip makes Keith’s heart beat faster in his chest. “If you kill me or anyone you’re not meant to —” Sendak grabs Shiro by his chin, pushing him close to the glass. “This man gets damaged even more.”

Up close, Keith can see _everything_. But he doesn’t know how well he’s fairing either.

Keith’s eyes whisper a desperate message: _are you okay?_

Shiro musters up a smile that’s to the left of happiness, and dips his head in a way that means: _speak for yourself_.

“So, what do you say, Hurricane?” Sendak grins.

“Sure,” Keith says as cockily as he can manage. But beneath his breezy arrogance, he knows that he’s not going to last a single round if everyone in the arena is against him.

**Author's Note:**

> idk, space. i like space wars. 
> 
> anyway they're all really grown up and marred by battle  
> 
> [ tumblr](https://the-teacupshatters.tumblr.com)


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